


what makes a good man?

by espressohno



Series: to sit in a library [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Dialogue Heavy, Established McKirk, Jim needs a hug, M/M, Previous Jim/Gary, Prison, creepy manipulative relationships, none of this is fun, teenage jim making bad decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espressohno/pseuds/espressohno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>second part of jim's backstory from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6272059">this au</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	what makes a good man?

**Author's Note:**

> title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUbYdjO7tE4)  
> hopefully not all of this series will be upsetting   
> (also this is the last we see of gary fucking mitchell i promise)

The only bar in Riverside that Jim could manage to get into was all the way on the other side of town, neighbored by nothing but a gas station and a cornfield. On the bright side, nobody he knew was ever there, so word never made it back home about his fake ID and his occasional male suitors. Not that his mother would have done anything about it, anyway. 

On the less bright side, Jim didn’t always have the best of encounters. 

The bar was usually filled with people passing through, looking for a few hours to get their mind off the road before having to return to their drive through the unremarkable Iowa countryside. Sometimes men came from all over the midwest, looking for work or, like Jim always imagined for himself, just travelling for the sake of it. 

Jim would charm them from across the bar, slide out of his leather jacket and take messy sips of beer and look up at them through his lashes like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

Finally someone, whoever he’d chosen to focus on, would make their way over, his interest eager and yet valid for only one night. Jim bet all his luck on that. He sweetened his accent, made useless small talk about where this stranger came from--Montana, Ohio, Indiana, once there was even a man from California--he always preferred the men who were from out of state, that made the role he played all the more novel to them. 

And when, only minutes later, Jim would be pushed up against the wall outside, hidden from the street but open to the navy sky, kissed and held and rutted against like he was a desert oasis to these men, it made him feel almost a little more cultured from the experience. This was his way of traveling all through the US, of getting a taste of the world outside of his shitty hometown.

That is, until halfway through his summer between high school and college. The bar was starting to lose some of its charm by then. Everyone who came in was sweaty and restless and would sooner curse Jim out than leave with him, but Jim kept coming back. He found that he didn’t have much else to do by way of socializing. 

He was sitting at the bar, towards the back, more interested in drinking alone that night. His tattoos had finally healed and he wore his shirt sleeves pushed up for everyone to see. It made him feel dangerous, sexy in a way he was never able to conjure before, sexy like the men he was attracted to. He was about ready to call it a night and go home when he looked up from his drink, caught eyes with a man that had definitely been staring at him. 

Jim looked away, shyly, like he had perfected after so long,  _ away for three seconds, head tilted down, and then look back up with just your eyes _ . The man stood up and walked over like Jim would disappear if he didn’t come quick enough. 

“You here alone?” He asked, and Jim shivered at how close he stood, like he knew exactly what Jim was here for, and his accent. This man was not from Iowa. He was tan and lean and smelled like real cologne. His hair was cut short and styled, the mark of a man with enough money to go to the hairdresser once a month. Jim shivered again, but he  didn’t respond. He only smiled at him and tilted his head, another little thing he’d practiced time and time again. 

“I’m Gary.” The man said, placing one arm on the side of the bar, more or less trapping Jim into the conversation. 

“That’s kindof a dumb name.” Was Jim’s immediate reaction, and he almost cursed himself for it, but Gary laughed in response. 

An hour later, in what would normally be a hasty, guilt-laced farewell and the last they saw of each other, Gary chose instead to scribble his phone number on Jim’s arm in ballpoint pen and kiss him almost innocently, taking way too long to say goodbye. 

Jim ran out of words to describe how he felt riding home that night. He parked his motorcycle in the driveway and flopped onto the grass of the front yard, arms open wide to the summer sky. 

That was the last time he went to the bar on the edge of town.

 

***

 

Jim was thankful for the plastic separating them, keeping him from doing something regrettable the second Gary showed up like punching him or trying to kiss him. He had only been in prison for two weeks, and already he hated himself for lying at his trial. But not nearly as much as he hated Gary. 

Gary sat on the other side, one leg loosely crossed over the other, an arm slung over the back of his chair as if he was making himself comfortable. Finally he picked up the phone and Jim did the same. He resented that he had to hold it with both hands to keep it from shaking visibly. 

“How are you doing?” Gary asked, and if Jim wasn’t projecting so much anger onto him he would’ve thought that Gary actually cared. Jim slouched.

“How the fuck do you think.” He didn’t have to point out the dark circles under his eyes, or the weight he had already lost, or the bruise that was fading on his forehead. He was sure Gary could tell  _ exactly _ how he was doing.

“Baby come on, don’t give me that.” Gary sighed, “You really need to put this in perspective.”

Jim gave him a flat look, held tighter onto the chunky plastic phone. 

“You only have eighteen months. Anyone in here can tell you that’s nothing.”

The carelessness in Gary’s voice used to be something that Jim found attractive, like he had seen so much of life that he didn’t have to be surprised or worried or scared of anything. Now it just made him want to scream. 

“I hate you.” Jim whispered. He bit his lip to hide that it was trembling, but he wasn’t able to hide the tears building up in his eyes, “You did this to me.”

“I never  _ did _ anything to you. You told me you wanted to get out of Iowa, baby, you  _ begged _ me to get you out.”

Gary was right. When it was time for him to leave Iowa Jim had begged to go with him. He dropped out of community college and packed his bags and left home without a goodbye because that was how badly he thought he needed to get out, to travel the world and be with the love of his life. Thinking of how desperate he had been just months ago, desperation that only landed him here, made Jim nauseous. 

“I’m not your baby.” He finally said, and Gary just smirked at him. 

“I’m not!” He said louder, tears spilling over against his will, “I never want to see you again.”

Jim hung up the phone. He pointedly didn’t look at Gary as he waited for an officer to come and take him back inside. 

 

***

 

Gary had given Leonard a phone number, and it made Jim sick to imagine the two of them talking, because Leonard didn’t know. He didn’t know that this was the man who had ruined everything, and he probably invited him inside, offered to make him coffee, treated him like he was one of Jim’s  _ friends _ . 

Jim called the number when he was alone in his library office. He held his finger over the end call button while it rang, reminded himself that he was in control. He owed Gary nothing. 

He promised him half an hour, at a coffee shop on the opposite side of the city, and then he never wanted to see or hear from him again. He hung up while Gary laughed at him. 

He didn’t tell Leonard about the meeting. He sat on the crowded bus, and slowly, as the city passed by through the windows, he could feel the anger coming back almost tenfold. Anger at Gary, but mostly at himself, because he was still scared. After all these years, it was like he was eighteen again, like his life belonged to Gary Mitchell again. 

“ _ How the hell did you find me _ .” Jim demanded through gritted teeth, sitting opposite of Gary and not even bothered by the fact that he was probably making a scene. Gary grinned, all teeth and attempted dominance. He blew a lock of brown hair up from his forehead. 

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since you got out. I thought you would know that.”

“I guess it hadn’t crossed my mind that my shitty ex-boyfriend who sent me to prison would bother stalking me.” He spat back, trying to sit as far away as he could without falling over in his chair.

Gary shrugged. He took a sip of his coffee like he had all the time in the world. 

“You’re a loose end.”

Jim’s eyes shot open at that. He had previously been staring down stubbornly at the center of the table but now looked up to Gary’s face. 

“You’re still dealing?” He whispered. Gary kicked his leg underneath the table, hard enough that Jim could tell there would be a bruise along his shin. 

“How many times to I have to tell you not to announce everything to the  _ whole damn world _ , jesus christ, were you this bad when we dated?”

Jim glared at him. 

“I said  _ I _ was asking the questions, or I leave.”

“Leave if you want. I still have your address.”

He almost did leave at that, except the threat of Gary fucking something up in his new life with his new people was still real and setting off alarms in his head. He held on to the edges of his chair and breathed for a minute.

“What is it going to take for you to leave me alone.”

Gary breathed out a laugh.

“I’m surprised you see me as such a threat, Jim.”

“You already ruined my life once.”

“Okay, listen, you have to stop blaming me for that. You knew what you were getting into. If I remember correctly, there was never a time when I held you at gunpoint to go to Atlanta.”

Jim wanted to gape at him. He leaned over the table, held a hand up against his face and, for once, tried to keep his voice down as much as possible. He just came out sounding exasperated.

“We started dating when you were twenty five and I was eighteen.  _ Eighteen _ .”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Jim dragged his hand down his face, let it fall to the table. 

“I was a _ teenager. _ ”

“That didn’t stop you from dating me for four years.”

“I can’t believe you don’t see why this is an issue.”

Gary leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Is this social justice shit something you learned from your new boyfriend?”

If anything about Gary had been threatening before, that was what made Jim’s heart almost stop. 

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“The two of us look real similar, have you noticed that? Or maybe that’s why you like him.”

“Shut up.” Jim said, “Shut up. Just tell me what you want.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Jim sat up straight again, about to tell him that he worked for the local government and got shitty pay and didn’t have anything to offer except his word, until he realized why Gary had actually shown up after all this time. 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, mostly to himself, “you want me back.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Gary griped, but Jim knew he was right. 

“You were waiting for me to go looking for you, weren’t you? But I didn’t.”

Gary glared at him. Jim felt like he could finally breathe again, because he didn’t have to be scared of the fact that Gary’s aggression was hiding _ jealousy _ . He didn’t have to be scared at all. He was in control. He laughed out of surprise more than anything else. 

“You’re upset because I don’t need you anymore.”

“You would be nothing without me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jim stood up from the table, “Just because you fucked me into adulthood doesn’t mean you made me a man.”

Gary raised his eyebrows, and when he couldn’t meet Jim’s eyes it felt like victory. Jim could see, now, how much older the both of them were. In years, obviously, but Gary looked tired, exhausted from the stress of whatever he called his life. Jim hoped he looked different. He hoped he looked more mature, more settled into the world. He hoped he looked nothing like the stupid teenager Gary had preyed on in that shitty bar back in Riverside. 

“If you try to contact me again, I’m calling the police.”

Jim walked through the door, through the streets and all the way home. For probably the first time in his life, he thought of Gary, and he felt nothing. 


End file.
